Chapter Thirty-Three
Emily
Maggie is waiting for me outside the pharmacy the next day before work, her arms crossed in front of her chest. Her lawyer — our lawyer — stands beside her. His arms are crossed, too, and there’s a look on his face that doesn’t make me optimistic. The store itself looks cleaned up, the glass repaired, the graffiti removed, the shelves and all the stock back in order. It’s as if the destruction never happened. The manager, Mr. Dunkhauser, must’ve really paid a lot to get everything fixed so fast. I’d been looking forward to getting back to work, but what I see on the faces of Maggie and Mr. Doberman tells me that work is going to be the least of my concerns today.
“Emily, we need to talk,” Maggie says as soon as I exit my car.
I’d had a smile on my face until I pulled into the parking lot. Spending the night with Hunter, finally telling him how I feel, and then getting some great time with both him and Charlie this morning had my heart feeling full, but now…
“Good morning, Maggie. What’s wrong?”
Doberman clears his throat. “There have been some developments that you need to be aware of.”
“What developments?” I say. And, after looking at him for a second, I add, “And is your last name really Doberman?”
It’s been bugging me. I need to know.
“Yes. It was Daubermann, which is German, but I changed it once I became a lawyer. I wanted my clients to know I’d always fight my hardest for them. Which is going to come in handy in this case.”
“Why?”
“Emily, the DA is threatening to file aggravated battery changes against the both of us for slapping Officer Abrams.”
“Aggravated battery? Are you serious?” I say. It’s hard to breathe. The words come out as little more than a strained whisper.
“Absolutely serious,” Doberman says. “Slapping a police officer, even one like Abrams, is never a good idea. In the state of Oregon, if convicted, you can face up to several years in jail, along with a fine of up to ten thousand dollars.”
My knees go weak, and I lean against my car for support. "Years in jail? For a slap?" The world seems to spin around me, and I feel like I might be sick.
Maggie steps forward, placing a comforting hand on my arm. "Don't panic, Emily. That's why we have Mr. Doberman here. He's going to help us fight this."
Doberman nods, his expression grim but determined. "Indeed. We have several angles we can work with. First, we'll argue self-defense. Officer Abrams was clearly overstepping his authority and acting in a threatening manner. Second, we'll bring up his history of misconduct and abuse of power. And third, we'll emphasize the minimal nature of the alleged assault — a slap hardly constitutes aggravated battery."
I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. "Okay. Okay. So what do we do now?"
"For now, you both need to lie low," Doberman advises. "No public statements, no social media posts about the incident. And absolutely no contact with Officer Abrams or anyone else involved in the case."
Maggie frowns. "What about our complaints against Officer Asshole?”
“For one, I would advise you to no longer use that term where anyone can hear it.”
“It’s accurate, though,” Maggie says.
“Regardless, as your lawyer, I’m telling you to can it unless you really want to see Officer Abrams smirking at you as you’re convicted.”
“Never thought I’d be using his face as motivation,” she replies.
I nod at her. It feels wrong to pull something positive from that man’s face, but I’ll do what I have to do to keep out of jail. The very idea shocks me — in one fell swoop, I could lose everything I care about: my chances at finishing my degree, at having a career, at being with Hunter and Charlie. Hunter may love me, but our love is so early that I doubt it’s a ‘I’ll wait out the length of your prison sentence’ kind of love.
Suddenly, I pull a deep breath and realize it’s the first time in what might be a minute that I’ve taken one; it feels like there’s a vise around my throat… or a familiar set of hands that still give me nightmares.
“Whatever keeps you out of jail,” Doberman says. “Now, my second point: your complaints are moving forward. Officer Alvarado is still willing to testify to the validity of your accusations. That gives your claims strength and also gives you two leverage, as two more claims against Officer Abrams may be enough to get him to push the DA to drop charges. Make no mistake, this is a messy situation for all parties involved, and I’ll be having many meetings with the DA and with the officer’s union rep to see what I can do to get this resolved satisfactorily for all parties involved.”
Maggie arches an eyebrow. “All parties? You work for us, Doberman. Why does it sound like you’re setting me up to bargain away my right to complain about Officer Abrams and his malignant behavior?”
“Because my primary concern is keeping you out of jail, and so I’m preparing you for the fact that you may need to sacrifice to achieve that, considering you punched a cop in broad daylight and in front of multiple witnesses. This is real life, not a TV show, and my name is Keith Doberman, not Saul Goodman. Am I clear?”
Mr. Doberman gives both of us such a steady look that Maggie and I both answer in unison. “Oh.”
I swallow hard, trying to process everything. "So, what do we do now? I mean, right this minute?"
Doberman checks his watch. "Right now, you both need to go to work and act as if nothing is wrong. We don't want to give anyone reason to suspect you're worried about potential charges. I'll be in touch later today with more details on our strategy."
Maggie nods, her face set in determination. "Alright, Emily. Let's go clock in."
As we walk towards the pharmacy entrance, I can't help but notice how different everything looks. The pristine storefront feels like a facade, hiding the turmoil beneath. It's as if the world is carrying on, oblivious to the fact that my life might be falling apart. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt so small, so insignificant. I wish Hunter were here.
Mr. Dunkhauser greets us at the door, his usual stern expression softened slightly. "Good to have you both here," he says, nodding curtly. "We've got a lot of catching up to do after being closed yesterday."
I force a smile, grateful for the distraction of work. As I go to my employee locker and stash my things, I catch Maggie's eye. She gives me a smile and a nod. I don’t see in her eyes the same doubt I feel. Maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe things will work out, even if, right now, it all seems so chaotic and overwhelming.
All I need to do is lie low, trust Maggie and her lawyer, and keep out of trouble. It shouldn’t be too hard; I’ve had enough of trouble lately to last me a long time.
Just as I’m putting my phone away, it beeps in my hand. It’s a text from Harper.
Got a lead on that gun you want. I’ll swing by the pharmacy when your shift is over. Be ready.